Richard II (Quarto 1, 1597)
Peer Reviewed
¶
Enter Lord Marshall and the Duke Aumerle.
¶Mar. My Lord Aumerle is Harry Herford armde?
295Aum. Yea at all points, and longs to enter in.
¶Staies but the summons of the appellants trumpet.
¶For nothing but his maiesties approach.
300
The trumpets sound and the King enters with his nobles; when
¶
they are set, enter the Duke of Norfolke in armes defendant.
¶The cause of his arriuall here in armes,
305Aske him his name, and orderly proceede
¶And why thou comest thus knightly clad in armes,
310Speake truly on thy knighthoode, and thy oth,
¶As so defend the heauen and thy valour.
¶Mow. My name is Thomas Mowbray Duke of Norfolke,
¶Who hither come ingaged by my oath,
¶(Which God defende a Knight should violate)
315Both to defend my loyalty and truth,
¶Against the Duke of Herford that appeales me,
¶And by the grace of God, and this mine arme,
320A traitour to my God, my King, and me,
¶And as I truely fight, defend me heauen.
322.1appellant in armour.
¶Both who he is, and why he commeth hither,
325Thus plated in habiliments of warre,
¶And formally according to our lawe,
¶Before king Richard in his royall lists,
¶Speake like a true Knight, so defend thee heauen.
¶Am I, who ready here do stand in Armes
¶To proue by Gods grace, and my bodies valour
335In lists, on Thomas Mowbray Duke of Norffolke,
¶That he is a traitour foule and dangerous,
¶To God of heauen, king Richard and to me:
¶And as I truely fight, defend me heauen.
340Or daring, hardy, as to touch the listes,
¶Except the Martiall and such officers
¶And bow my knee before his Maiestie,
345For Mowbray and my selfe are like two men,
¶That vow a long and wearie pilgrimage,
¶Then let vs take a ceremonious leaue,
¶Mar. The appellant in all duety greetes your Highnes,
¶So be thy fortune in this royall fight:
¶Farewell my bloud, which if to day thou shead,
355Lament we may, but not reuenge the dead.
¶Bul. O let no noble eie prophane a teare
¶For me, if I be gorde with Mowbraies speare:
¶As confident as is the Falcons flight
¶Against a bird, do I with Mowbray fight.
360My louing Lord, I take my leaue of you:
¶Of you (my noble cousin) Lord Aumarle,
¶Not sicke although I haue to do with death,
¶But lusty, yong and cheerely drawing breth:
¶Oh thou the earthly Authour of my bloud,
¶Doth with a two-fold vigour lift me vp,
¶To reach at Victory aboue my head:
370Adde proofe vnto mine armour with thy prayers,
¶That it may enter Mowbraies waxen cote.
¶Be swift like lightning in the execution,
¶And let thy blowes doubly redoubled,
¶Fall like amaZing thunder on the caske
¶Of thy aduerse pernitious enemy,
380Rowze vp thy youthfull bloud, be valiant and liue.
¶There liues or dies true to King Richards throne,
¶A loyall, iust, and vpright Gentleman:
385Neuer did captiue with a freer heart
¶Cast off his chaines of bondagee, and embrace
¶His golden vncontrould enfranchisment,
¶More than my dauncing soule doth celebrate
390Most mighty Liege, and my companion Peeres,
¶As gentle, and as iocund as to iest
¶Go I to fight, truth hath a quiet brest.
395Vertue with Valour couched in thine eie,
¶Order the triall Martiall, and beginne.
¶Receiue thy launce, and God defend the right.
¶Bul. Strong as a tower in hope I cry, Amen.
400Mart. Go beare this lance to Thomas Duke of Norfolke.
¶On paine to be found false and recreant,
¶To proue the Duke of Norfolke Thomas Mowbray
405A traitor to God, his king, and him,
¶And dares him to set forward to the fight.
¶On paine to be found false and recreant,
¶Both to defend himselfe, and to approue
410Henry of Hereford, Lancaster, and Darby,
¶Attending but the signall to beginne.
415Stay, the king hath throwen his warder downe.
¶And both returne backe to their chaires againe,
¶Withdraw with vs, and let the trumpets sound,
¶While we returne these dukes what we decree.
¶What with our counsell we haue done:
¶With that deare bloud which it hath fostered:
425And for our eies do hate the dire aspect
¶Of cruell wounds plowd vp with neighbours sword,
426.1And for we thinke the Egle-winged pride
¶Of skie-aspiring and ambitious thoughts,
¶With riuall hating enuy set on you
¶To wake our peace, which in our Countries cradle
430Might from our quiet confines fright faire Peace,
¶And make vs wade euen in our kinreds bloud;
¶Therefore we banish you our territories:
¶You cousin Hereford vpon paine of life,
¶Til twice fiue summers haue enricht our fields,
435Shall not regreete our faire dominions,
¶And those his golden beames to you heere lent,
440Shall point on me, and guilde my banishment.
¶King Norfolke, for thee remaines a heauier doome,
¶Breathe I against thee, vpon paine of life.
¶A deerer merit not so deepe a maime,
450As to be cast forth in the common ayre
¶The language I haue learnt these forty yeeres,.
¶And now my tongues vse is to me, no more
455Than an vnstringed violl or a harpe,
¶Or being open, put into his hands
¶That knowes no touch to tune the harmonie:
¶Within my mouth you haue engaold my tongue,
460Doubly portculist with my teeth and lippes,
¶And dull vnfeeling barren ignorance
¶Is made my Gaoler to attend on me:
¶I am too olde to fawne vpon a nurse,
¶Too far in yeeres to be a pupill now,
¶Which robbes my tongue from_breathing natiue breath.
¶After our sentence playning comes too late.
¶Mow. Then thus I turne me from my countries light,
¶Sweare by the duty that y'owe to God,
475To keepe the oath that we administer:
¶Embrace each others loue in banishment,
¶Nor neuer looke vpon each others face,
¶Nor neuer write, regreete, nor reconcile
480This lowring tempest of your home-bred hate,
¶To plot, contriue, or complot any ill,
485Mow. And I, to keepe al this.
¶By this time, had the King permitted vs,
¶One of our soules had wandred in the aire,
¶Since thou hast far to go, beare not along
¶Mow. No Bullingbrooke, if euer I were traitour,
495My name be blotted from the booke of_life,
¶And I from heauen banisht as from hence:
¶But what thou art, God, thou, and I, do know,
¶Farewell (my Liege) now no way can I stray,
500Saue backe to England al the worlds my way.
Exit.
¶Hath from the number of his banisht yeeres
505Returne with welcome home from banishment.
¶Bull. How long a time lies in one little word.
¶Foure lagging winters and foure wanton springes,
¶End in a word, such is the breath of Kinges.
¶Gaunt. I thanke my liege that in regard of me,
¶But little vantage shall I reape thereby:
¶Can change their moones, and bring their times about,
¶My oile-dried lampe, and time bewasted light
¶My intch of taper will be burnt and done,
¶And plucke nights from me, but not lend a morrow:
¶Thou canst helpe time to furrow me with age,
¶But stoppe no wrinckle in his pilgrimage:
¶Thy word is currant with him for my death,
525But dead, thy kingdome cannot buy my breath.
¶Whereto thy tong a party verdict gaue,
530You vrgde me as a iudge, but I had rather,
¶You would haue bid me argue like a father:
531.1Oh had't beene a stranger, not my child,
¶A partiall slaunder ought I to auoide,
¶I was too strict to make mine owne away:
¶But you gaue leaue to my vnwilling tongue,
540From where you doe remaine let paper shew.
¶Mar. My Lord, no leaue take I, for I will ride
¶As farre as land will let me by your side.
¶That thou returnest no greeting to thy friends?
545Bull. I haue too few to take my leaue of you,
¶When the tongues office should be prodigall,
¶To breathe the aboundant dolor of the heart.
¶Which findes it an inforced pilgrimage.
¶The pretious Iewell of thy home returne.
¶Will but remcmber me what a deale of world:
¶I wander from the Iewels that I loue.
¶But that I was a iourneyman to griefe.
¶Are to a wiseman portes and happie hauens:
¶There is no vertue like necessity,
¶Thinke not the King did banish thee,
¶But thou the King. Woe doth the heauier sit,
¶Where it perceiues it is but faintly borne:
¶Deuouring pestilence hangs in our aire,
¶And thou art flying to a fresher clime:
¶Looke what thy soule holds deare, imagine it
¶The flowers, faire Ladies, and thy steps, no more
¶Then a delightfull measure or a dance,
¶Bul. Oh who can hold a fier in his hand,
560Or cloy the hungry edge of appetite,
¶By bare imagination of a feast?
¶Or wallow naked in December snow,
¶Oh no, the apprehension of the good,
565Giues but the greater feeling to the worse:
¶Fell sorrowes tooth doth neuer ranckle more,
¶My mother and my nurse that beares me yet,
¶Where eare I wander boast of this I can,
Exeunt.
